Her appearance: seemingly human, not quite two meters in height, lean, ill-shaven; a fringe dweller, outside the settlement density perimeter, likely an arrival from a more recent jump. [ More recent than herself, she means. ]

When confronted she pretended compliance before affecting a transformation into a mammalian monster. Teeth, claws, pelt, accelerated healing. Increased sized and strength. She fled after I fired my sidearm, wounding her leg.

I have pursued her to a ridge some distance from the river. [ coordinates are provided ] I am having trouble keeping pace. If anyone with combat experience is nearby, backup would be beneficial.

We should take her alive, if possible. Justice must be served.

(( OOC Note: This post refers to an encounter with Flint Deckard, not the ongoing modplot about thefts in the camp. So much crime, so little time! ))

voice.

[ It does take a moment, between the technological barrier of not yet being in the habit of checking his cellphone, and all the lady pronouns being flung around, but Hawke can put some things together. He's talked to Etrepa before.

And he's seen this perpetrator of criminal larceny before. ]

She's a werewolf.

[ What? He can roll with it. He sounds like he's running in response. More to directions about ridges and rivers than coordinates, but he has Dog with him, who also doesn't know coordinates, but has a good nose for an old friend. ]

text - un: fedoratheexplorer

[Firo's not sure if this'll even be dignified with a response--probably not in the middle of her chase, at least--but he's certainly not above wasting his own time and that of others just to be a brat.

...And, well, the thought of people taking it upon themselves to police crimes just makes him nervous on principle.]

Who died and made you sheriff?

Edited (This comment would not be complete without his terrible username) 2016-01-20 15:43 (UTC)